The Sanctuary of the Divine Mandala lay behind them, its divine brilliance dimming as they traversed the ethereal pathways. The excitement of the Divine Auction was still a faint echo in Ebonheim’s heart, but now, her anticipation was keenly attuned to the journey ahead.
In front of her, Ariastra guided the way, her delicate form moving gracefully along the path, her gossamer garments trailing behind her like the tails of a celestial comet.
As the shimmering veil between dimensions parted, Ebonheim and Ariastra stepped into a breathtaking panorama of white stone, glimmering towers, and cobbled streets bordered by graceful hedgerows and sweeping archways crowned with towering gates. On the horizon stood the sea, reflecting the afternoon sunlight in shimmering silver streaks—but as mesmerizing as the view was, Ebonheim couldn't tear her eyes away from the center of the city.
Glorious bridges, appearing like gossamer strands from a distance, arched gracefully over the city's serpentine canals, connecting the city's vast stone towers and marble edifices. Above each tower, a great glass dome shimmered with its own brilliance, each one illuminated by a celestial light that seemed to pour into the streets below, radiating in colorful streaks over the city's rooftops and reflecting off its canals, filling the city with a mesmerizing glow.
"Welcome to Byllais," Ariastra said, sweeping her hand across the horizon. “My city. My symphony.”
Ebonheim breathed in sharply. She had thought the Eldergrove forest to be enchanting, but Byllais was breathtaking in an entirely different manner. Her head spun as she looked around, her gaze drawn to every architectural marvel—from its waterways, adorned with exquisite arches and decorative piers; to its glittering towers and elaborate gardens; to its bustling thoroughfares and airy promenades. Every inch of the city exuded refined beauty.
She couldn't help but envy Ariastra—even if only slightly. Compared to her little village, Ariastra's city was beyond magnificent. For a moment, she forgot about the artifacts clutched in her hands, their sacred magic now but a distant memory.
With a flick of her wrist, Ariastra conjured a grand chariot to float beside her, its golden runners trailing shimmering magic that glistened in the sunlight. Ebonheim's eyes widened as she gingerly stepped aboard, feeling the pleasant heat that radiated from the chariot's surface beneath her feet.
Ariastra, on the other hand, seemed to glide across the chariot's surface as if she was weightless, her body strings vibrating with her gait. After a moment, Ebonheim settled into her seat, finding herself relaxing as they made their way across the city.
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As they journeyed through the city, the city folk cast their eyes upon the pair, expressions of curiosity, admiration, and reverence dancing upon their faces. They would nod in deference to Ariastra, offering her silent songs of respect. Ariastra's name echoed in the melodic chatter of the city, spreading like an undercurrent among the throngs of people who bustled through the streets.
Ariastra, however, paid them no mind. She was like the conductor of a grand orchestra, more focused on the overall melody than the individual notes. Her eyes never left Ebonheim's, her attention devoted to nothing else.
Through the winding avenues, they ventured deeper into Byllais, each new street leading into a new part of the city. As they journeyed, Ariastra explained the history, culture, and legends of Byllais, enriching the experience for Ebonheim with each new tale and anecdote—from the mystical origins of its canals, to its more mundane beginnings as a trade hub.
Their chariot stopped in front of a modest courtyard ringed by sculpted hedges. Ariastra motioned for Ebonheim to take a walk with her, leading her deeper into the courtyard, past fountains filled with colorful blossoms and lily pads, and into an open-air gallery. Ariastra began to point out the various arches and alcoves, each one adorned with a mosaic of clay and tile, depicting scenes of life within the city.
"As you can see," Ariastra began, her melodious voice echoing in the empty chamber, "Byllais was founded as a trade hub, but its purpose has evolved over time." Ariastra lifted her hand as she spoke, gesturing at the mosaics on the wall beside them. "Each of these panels tells the story of the city's development."
Ebonheim smiled as she studied the scenes painted on the wall. While each one depicted a different event, all shared a common theme—the city's prosperity through music and art.
As they walked along the city streets, Ebonheim watched as people of all shapes and sizes went about their business, each one dressed in a variety of garments that ranged from plain to elaborate, each one unique and fascinating in its own way. Among the crowd, she noticed, were several individuals wearing robes of pure white, with distinctive markings on their foreheads and necks—they were probably Ariastra's priests.
Ariastra's presence did not go unnoticed. As they passed, the citizens seemed to revere Ariastra from afar, giving them a wide berth as they walked. Some knelt, others whispered prayers, their faces etched with a profound sense of reverence and awe.
The stark contrast to her own relationship with her villagers stirred a strange sense of unease within Ebonheim. She was used to warm smiles, shared meals, and friendly banter—not this distant adoration.
Despite her discomfort, Ebonheim remained silent, her gaze steadfast as she continued to observe the city and its people, a silent promise to herself to understand this alien world better.
Their journey took them through winding lanes and expansive plazas, all echoing with the harmonious hum of Byllais. As they strode, Ebonheim noted how the city dwellers barely interacted with Ariastra, save for distant expressions of reverence. She was like a melody held in high esteem but played from afar, touching the lives of the citizens indirectly.
On a few occasions, when their path intersected with a priest or a member of the city's ruling council, they would pause, offering prayers and reports to Ariastra. The deity would respond with a melodic hum, her strings vibrating to produce divine harmonies. It was an indirect way of communication that seemed to suit Ariastra, who emanated an air of aloof benevolence.
A particular instance lingered in Ebonheim's mind when a young woman, holding a newborn, approached them. She seemed to radiate a quiet desperation as she extended the child towards Ariastra. But before the woman could utter a word, a priest intercepted her, offering a quick prayer before sending her off with a blessing.
Ebonheim found it odd. In her village, she would greet each person, and spend time learning about their lives, their dreams, and their worries. Despite her circumstances, she had always made the effort to talk with people, and had enjoyed learning about them. But here, in this vast city, she saw no such interaction. It was as if an invisible wall existed between Ariastra and her subjects.
Her golden eyes turned to Ariastra.
"Why didn't you speak with her?" she asked, her voice a hushed whisper as they walked. "In my village, I know everyone by their names. I laugh and talk with them, help them when they're in need, listen to their troubles, and try my best to counsel them if I'm able to."
Ariastra paused to regard her, the stringed goddess tilting her head slightly. "I govern, inspire, and protect. They offer me their belief, and I give them a city of harmony. That is our bond. Interactions like these," she gestured at the retreating figure of the woman, "are for my priests to handle."
But...wouldn't that be unfair to them? Didn't the citizens deserve to be heard directly by Ariastra as well? The detached nature of Ariastra's rule was in stark contrast to her own interactions with her villagers. She thought of the guards who had lost their lives defending her village, of the promises she'd made to ensure their safety. In her heart, each villager was a friend, a family.
"But isn't it lonely?" She found herself voicing the thought before she could stop it. "You're their goddess. Doesn't it feel more...real when you interact directly?"
Ariastra seemed to contemplate her question, her strings vibrating as she regarded her once more.
"My role is not to be their friend but their deity. It's a different kind of connection, one of reverence and respect. It's harmonious in its own way." She resumed walking, gesturing for Ebonheim to follow. "Besides, I have tens of thousands of worshippers. It's impossible to know each one of them personally."
She gestured to one of her nearby priests, who was listening to a man plead for some assistance.
"That's why I have my priests. They interact with the people, and relay their needs and prayers to me. It's more efficient this way."
Eventually, they arrived back at the chariot and boarded, making their way to the center of the city.
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After a while, their chariot came to a stop in front of an opulent structure at the edge of a tranquil park—a large building made out of gleaming marble and white stone, crowned with a spectacular glass dome and towering edifices of its own.
"This," Ariastra said, pointing towards the structure, "is the Serenissima, the Royal Cathedral of Byllais."
As Ebonheim's eyes focused on the structure, its grandeur and opulence were impossible to miss. The building itself was enormous, with wide balconies on several floors and arched entrances. Ebonheim didn't know where to look first. Each entrance had its own intricate design, and the palace was flanked on either side by towering colonnades, supporting the glass dome overhead like a flower petal cupped by its stamen.
As they stepped off the chariot, a group of women approached, each of them bowing in reverence to Ariastra. Their ornate robes were adorned with jewel-encrusted ornaments hanging from their elaborate headpieces, and elaborate girdles, with flowing silken tassels trailing down from their waists, settling in the folds of their gowns. Long sleeves draped over their fingers as they clasped their hands together in prayer. Their long, flowing hair, done up in elaborate braids and curls, fell gracefully over their shoulders and down their backs.
"These are my attendants. Pay them no mind." Ariastra walked past them without so much as a glance in their direction and guided Ebonheim to the palace doors. Ebonheim could only offer the women a sympathetic smile and a nod as they bowed once more before following along a short distance away.
When the doors of the Serenissima opened, the sight that greeted Ebonheim was spectacular. Bright, airy interiors were lit by the daylight pouring through the great glass dome, and a crystal chandelier, hanging from the dome's ceiling, sent a shower of glittering motes drifting downward as the two goddesses passed underneath its glowing circle. Large frescoes depicting events from Byllais' history covered the walls and floors as they continued forward. At the end of the corridor was a tall door guarded by several armed soldiers in shining armor.
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After a short walk, they stopped before a staircase that led to another level above them. Instead of continuing, Ariastra motioned to a young woman who sat at the foot of the stairs. "Pirika," Ariastra said, motioning towards Ebonheim, "This is my guest for today."
The woman, who Ebonheim assumed to be Pirika, rose to her feet and walked towards the two of them. "Your Eminence," she said with a graceful curtsey, her voice soft and melodic.
"Pirika will escort you," Ariastra continued, her tone gentle and unhurried as she turned to regard Ebonheim. "She'll answer any questions you may have, and will help you find your way around the palace until tonight's concert begins."
"Concert?" Ebonheim asked as her gaze flicked back and forth between the two women in surprise.
Ariastra nodded and replied, "Yes. I have scheduled a concert to be held in the grand hall tonight. You will be a guest of honor."
Ebonheim's gaze shifted to Pirika, who gave her a warm smile and nodded, "It will be a delight to have you, my lady."
"Thank you," Ebonheim replied, returning the smile as her gaze lingered on Pirika for a moment longer before turning back to Ariastra. "Well then, I guess I'll see you again at the concert?"
Ariastra gave her a warm nod and hummed in response before turning on her heels and walking away. Ebonheim watched as Ariastra's graceful form drifted towards the stairs and up to the upper level.
As Ebonheim turned to face Pirika again, she could feel Pirika's curious gaze upon her, studying her. For a moment, she didn't know what to say, the silence lingering for a moment before Pirika finally spoke, "Shall we?" she asked, her melodious voice bright and cheerful as she gestured towards the stairs. "I shall show you to your room."
Ebonheim nodded and followed after her. As they walked through the palace's winding corridors and hallways, she found herself studying the decor and architecture with newfound interest.
On their way, they passed a group of people who were busily setting up for the concert, carrying musical instruments, equipment, and tools from place to place as they prepped for the evening performance. Ebonheim paused to watch them, admiring the care they put into their tasks. She wondered if she should help them with their work as well, but Pirika didn't stop so she chose to remain silent instead.
As they continued, Ebonheim began to feel the weight of Pirika's unspoken questions. Still, Ebonheim maintained her silence, not knowing what to say to the woman. Eventually, Pirika broke the silence, her voice soft and apologetic, "I'm sorry if I seem a little overbearing," she said. "It's just that..." she paused for a moment as her words trailed away before finally adding, "It's just that you're...are you a goddess?"
Ebonheim blinked and turned to regard the woman who had asked the question before chuckling in response. "Yes," she replied, "Yes, I am Ebonheim."
Pirika's eyes widened at the mention of Ebonheim's name, and she nodded as she stared at her for a moment longer before finally adding, "I apologize," she said again, "It's just that...you look so...human. So..." her voice trailed away again and she fell silent, her expression troubled as they continued to walk together.
What was wrong with looking human? Ebonheim couldn't help but feel puzzled at her words—was there a rule against gods looking like this? Even the other gods had commented on her appearance. Honestly, she didn't understand why this was such a big deal.
After a moment, Pirika spoke again, her tone hopeful, "Do you have a domain?"
"Yes," Ebonheim nodded as she answered, "Yes, I do. I have a quaint little village in a beautiful forest."
Pirika's expression brightened, her shoulders relaxing as she asked, "Really? Oh, that's wonderful! Please, do tell me more about it," she said as they continued their walk.
Was it alright to talk about her village to a stranger? What would Engin do in this situation? Many of the elders had been apprehensive about outsiders knowing anything about the village, so perhaps they wouldn't approve.
After a moment, Ebonheim relented a little and began to tell Pirika a little about her village—enough to satisfy Pirika's curiosity and still maintain her village's privacy. Eventually, it was nearing time to attend the concert.
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Ebonheim sat with Ariastra at the royal box, overlooking the hall's grand stage as they watched the performers prepare for the concert. Before them, a wide orchestra had gathered, its members donning fine uniforms as they tuned their instruments. Beyond the stage, a grand chandelier hung from the ceiling's glass dome, casting a dim light over the crowd, which had already begun to fill the hall.
Ariastra hummed in contentment as she gazed at the musicians below her, the strings on her body vibrating as she did so. "This concert should be very enjoyable," Ariastra said, her gaze fixated on the orchestra below, "This year's concert is the highlight of the season."
Ebonheim nodded in agreement and replied, "It's very impressive," she said, "The Serenissima is an incredible place."
A loud thud sounded as a man banged his drum and the crowd silenced to listen. It was as if the city was holding its breath, waiting for the performance to begin. A hushed silence fell over the hall the Maestro appeared on the stage below, his posture straight and proud, a silver baton in his hand.
At the Maestro's signal, the musicians began to play—a bold, crashing chord that sent a wave of warm applause through the hall. It was like a storm of sound, crashing against the hall's walls with each blow of the Maestro's baton.
As the orchestra performed the first piece, Ebonheim was awed by the orchestra's precision and the skill of the performers—from the volume and nuance of their instruments to their synchronized movements as the conductor led them through the piece's various themes.
She sat at attention as the symphony played, each note resonating in her heart as she focused on the music. With each piece, her ears became more attuned to the subtler details of the music, her eyes shifting from the orchestra to the conductor, and finally to Ariastra.
The goddess' body strings hummed softly in tune with the music below, her eyes half-closed, as if she had drifted off to a world of her own. For a moment, Ebonheim was almost overwhelmed by the feeling of serenity and harmony that seemed to emanate from Ariastra's very being, her very existence like a soft lullaby to Ebonheim's senses.
As the concert continued, the music swelled, its intricate harmonies drawing her into its spell, her vision and senses seemingly narrowed to the stage, and only the music that poured from the orchestra's instruments mattered.
As the performance drew to an end, a soft swell of applause rippled through the hall before the audience rose to their feet, their faces glowing with admiration and wonder as the performers took a bow. Ebonheim clapped as well, smiling as she did so.
That was quite the experience. Though the music of her village had its own charm, she had never imagined such an incredible orchestra could be so moving and mesmerizing.
As the concert concluded, Ariastra and Ebonheim rose to their feet and exited the royal box, leaving the hall behind them. Once outside, Ebonheim breathed in the fresh night air, relishing the cool breeze that caressed her face as her eyes roamed across the city's marvels once more.
"What did you think?" Ariastra asked, her melodic voice drawing Ebonheim's attention again. "Did you enjoy the concert?"
Ebonheim nodded and replied, "Yes, I did. It was a beautiful performance." As they made their way through the boulevard by the Serenissima, Ebonheim continued, "And your city, too, is quite lovely."
As the two goddesses walked together through Byllais' streets, Ebonheim was reminded of her conversation with Ariastra earlier—about how Ariastra was perceived by the people, and how her priests spoke on her behalf. It seemed like Ariastra was content with the status quo, but still...
As if reading her mind, Ariastra spoke, "In places like this, we deities are reminded of our divine purpose. We are not here to be their friends, but to lead them on the path to harmony and peace. We serve a higher purpose—one that I cannot compromise."
"Are we not too distant from them? Should we not try to interact more and not just...be observers?" Ebonheim found herself voicing her thoughts again, but Ariastra didn't seem to mind.
"Our roles as deities are complex, Ebonheim. Yes, we protect and guide our followers. But, it's equally important to maintain a certain distance."
"But why?" Ebonheim protested, her tone confused.
Ariastra's strings hummed, casting a soothing melody into the air. "Because...we are not mortal. We are immortal beings with immense power. Too much familiarity can lead to complacency, which in turn can jeopardize the respect and reverence they have for us."
"But, isn't the love and trust I share with my villagers also a form of reverence?" Ebonheim asked, her eyes filled with determination. "They see me not just as a goddess, but as a friend, a family member. Isn't that a stronger bond?"
Ariastra contemplated Ebonheim's words, her melody quieting. "Perhaps, in a village such as yours, Ebonheim. But you must remember that the role of a deity is not merely to rule or to be loved. We are symbols, inspirations, the apex of our domains. It is our duty to stand tall, to inspire faith, and to guide our people towards harmony and prosperity. In a way, it is a form of love, but it's distant, impersonal. That is the nature of divinity."
Ebonheim listened, her expression heavy with thought. What Ariastra said did make sense, in a way. Even she had a responsibility to the villagers, and it was her duty to protect them and ensure they prospered in any way she could. Still, she valued the personal connections with her villagers, the shared joys and sorrows, the sense of community, of family.
Struggling with her thoughts, Ebonheim quietly responded, "I understand your words, Ariastra. They ring true, but they're so different from my own experiences. I love my villagers, they're like my family. To me, being their goddess means being there for them, in person, sharing their lives, their joys, their sorrows."
She looked up at Ariastra. "Is it wrong to want to be more than just an inspiration? To want to be a friend, a guardian, a part of their lives?"
Ariastra didn't respond immediately, but her gaze softened a little.
After a moment, she replied, "Your determination is admirable, Ebonheim. I've warned you before of the dangers that await those who do not keep their distance from their followers, but perhaps you still do not understand. This is a lesson you may have to learn through your own experiences."
As they continued their walk, Ebonheim remained silent. How could she explain the pull she felt towards her villagers, the love, the sense of devotion, the bond that she shared with them? It was a bond like no other. A bond that went beyond words, beyond rational thought.
After a while, Ariastra spoke again, her musical voice soft but insistent as she added, "It's late, Ebonheim. You should return to your domain."
Ebonheim opened her mouth to respond—but she hesitated and fell silent again. While she had been enjoying herself in Byllais, she had been so preoccupied with everything around her that she had forgotten about the most crucial thing she should have asked at the beginning of her visit.
Ariastra seemed to have sensed her thoughts, as she paused, her gaze shifting to Ebonheim's face. "What's the matter, Ebonheim?"
"Ariastra, I'm sorry, I've forgotten to ask," she managed a sheepish smile and added, "How exactly do I go back to my domain?"
Ariastra's eyes blinked several times before she finally responded with a soft sigh. "If you de-manifest, your divine spark will return to your domain in an instant. Haven't you done this before?"
Wait...she could do that?
Ebonheim shook her head and replied, "No, never. The last time I de-manifested was...a couple of years ago. And actually...that was the only time."
Ariastra's brows knitted with concern before she sighed again and said, "That's surprising...and rather peculiar...and a bit worrying."
Ebonheim tilted her head, puzzled by Ariastra's response. "Why is that?"
Ariastra shook her head, waving the question off and replied, "Nothing...you should head back now. My final advice is for you to consult with the Akashic System so that at the very least, you understand all of your basic capabilities...if you still have not done so—wait, one more thing," Ariastra paused before continuing, "Be sure to attune yourself with the artifacts you've acquired. If you de-manifest without their prior attunement, they will not be transported along with you."
Ebonheim's mouth hung open in shock. "Wait...what?!"
Ariastra gave her a solemn nod. "Yes," she replied, her tone firm, "Taking them through a portal is fine, but you won't be able to take them with you after de-manifesting if you don't attune with them first."
That...was...close. Too close. If Ariastra hadn't said anything, she would have gone home empty-handed, and would probably be screaming and crying without stop for the rest of the week. Oh...praise Ariastra. Bless!
Ebonheim stared at Ariastra for a moment before nodding her head. "Right...thank you." She paused and added, "For what you've shown me today."
Ariastra's strings hummed again, her musical voice warm as she replied, "Of course. Until next we meet, Ebonheim."